


my hand remembers you

by vivalagay



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Car Accidents, Heavy Angst, M/M, pay attention to tenses to not get confused lol, tws in a/n, ways to ruin minhyuk's life pt. 239
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-28 08:40:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16720038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivalagay/pseuds/vivalagay
Summary: Five months after their break up, Minhyuk and Jooheon find themselves stuck in a taxi together.





	my hand remembers you

**Author's Note:**

> for my "we're stuck in this place together" square~ this is kind of stupid lol i'm sorry 
> 
> i made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/zwinkymodel/playlist/24gksglf2LedPuposx5VDN?si=EvMnBIVHRRuBGuNquHTAHQ) for writing this, so you can listen if you want ^^ not every song has any relation to the fic but they all helped and are my favorite writing songs :)))
> 
> tws: blood & mentions of suicide (be safe!!)
> 
> title from "11°" by minah

Everything hurts.

This ache ― it throbs at every inch of his body. Like he's on fire, or every limb is crushed. Like he's fallen from a fifteen-foot building and shattered right over the concrete.

Everything is so dark. Of course it is, his eyes are still closed, but Minhyuk can't bring himself to open them. He's scared. Scared of only darkness meeting him and nothingness and having to know what this pain is that nearly swallows his whole body numb.

He moves, slightly. It's a mistake. His gut instantly throbs, and his head squeezes like it's a stress ball.

Minhyuk breathes, or tries to at least. There's a ringing in his ears, and something else that he can't make out. And he tries to inhales deeply, catch his breath, but it only sucks a scent of smoke into his throat.

He's in a taxi, right?

He thinks he is. But it just feels like he's floating. Lingering somewhere in space. Engulfed in darkness and this insufferable chill. 

There has to be a reason he's in a taxi.

He went somewhere. Somewhere besides work. There must be a reason why he left the house.

His head squeezes again.

Everything is so silent, yet too noisy, all of his thoughts and the utter blankness in his head pounding at his temples. He hears that _something_ again, louder, but his hearing feels so unreachable, so distant. The noise just sounds like a voice underwater.

But no one could be with him. But he's in a taxi. The taxi driver ― no, besides him, someone was with him. He _knows_ someone was with him.

Minhyuk moves again, just a little turn on his side, but pain shoots through him like a bullet. His cry is just a rasp, so quiet it couldn't even move the wind, and then his eyes are open.

It's like coming up from water.

The ringing in his ears is faint, and the something is a scream ― no, _crying_. Someone's crying.

"Jooheon," Minhyuk calls. His mouth remembers before his mind even does, voice like a scrape.

In his head, there's hot chocolate and Jooheon's smile, and the Christmas tree by Hoseok and Kihyun's fireplace.

But it makes no sense with the way Jooheon is hovering beside him now, gasping out breaths with a trembling chin and tears spilling from his eyes. It looks like he's levitating in his car seat, until Minhyuk realizes they're not sitting upright. He's lying on his side.

"Jooheon," Minhyuk says again, louder, even though it pains him.

Jooheon looks down at him. Blood is smothered over the side of his face, mixing in with his tears. "My seat belt, it won't ― we're stuck, and I can't get the door open. It won't ―"

He pauses and breaks into another sob. Minhyuk wants to be close to him, wants to be able to hold him and wipe every tear away, but his bones still ache. Everything still hurts. The thought of moving is something he can barely even fathom in his mind.

"It's okay," Minhyuk tells him. "Don't cry, Jooheonie."

"I don't know where we are." Jooheon grabs at his seat belt, tugging it as hard as he can, over and over again, and then doubles over with a sob.

"Don't cry," Minhyuk repeats, because that's all he can think of to say. "I can get you out, okay? Please stop crying."

He sucks in a breath and reaches over to grab Jooheon's seat belt.

Only one arm can make it, but Minhyuk's able to give the fabric a few hard pulls, ignoring the throbbing in his stomach, pulling until it's as tight as it can go and he can finally yank it undone.

The belt snatches from around Jooheon's waist. He screams and lurches forward, slaps right beside him.

"Are you okay?"

Something cracks, and then the world falls silent. Even the wind.

"Jooheon-ah?"

Jooheon isn't screaming anymore. Not even crying. Minhyuk's ears don't even ring.

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

 

"How long has it been?"

Minhyuk flicked his eyes to the kitchen island Jooheon leaned against, mug in hand, this familiar smile at his lips as Hyungwon told him something behind his palm. There was barely a tinge of difference about him. Even from the way each curl of his lips squinted at his dark eyes, or those deep dimples in his cheeks that sometimes Minhyuk can't keep out of his dreams. Everything about him was almost exactly the same.

He ripped his eyes away, looked at Kihyun who was still scrutinizing the Christmas tree in the corner with these laser eyes―probably realizing it looked a bit emptier than when the party first started, which is why Minhyuk told Hoseok he shouldn't pluck so many chocolate candy canes off the tree, or eat any more of the string of popcorn going around it in a very tempting decoration. Of course he didn't bother listening. Minhyuk didn't listen to his own words either.

Minhyuk thought of what Kihyun asked, and he was unsure whether he meant  _since you've seen each other_ , or  _since you've broken up_ , but they both had the same answer, "Five months," he murmured into a mug of hot chocolate.

It’s too sweetened with a large marshmallow melting in the center Hoseok plopped in without asking. Minhyuk didn't really want hot chocolate anyway; he just needed something to do with his hands, or his mouth, something that would keep him from catching glimpses of Jooheon too many times with his loud laugh and his soft skin that seemed to glimmer even with the frigid wind and icy streets outside, and then he would miss him too much.

"You haven't tried calling him?"

Minhyuk shrugged, phlegmatic as if he hadn't stared at his phone for hours some nights, heart a frantic rhythm in his chest and tears in his eyes as his fingers twitched over Jooheon's contact. "Maybe a few times. But calling is a waste of time. He never picks up. I stopped trying a long time ago."

Three weeks after their break-up ― to be specific. This long message Jooheon sent him―the _last_ message Jooheon sent him―was still in his phone after all the days Minhyuk soaked his screen with tears, leaving more unintelligible voicemails about his dumb feelings and how much he missed him. Each line Jooheon typed back to him was a lie. Telling him that this was better for the both of them and that they'd be happier, how he loved him and this was hard for him too, but he needed to stop contacting him.

In the kitchen, Jooheon threw his head back and laughed into his hand with Hyungwon, smiling even wider when he curled into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Kihyun frowned.

Minhyuk forced a smile back at him like he was okay, and sipped from his mug again.

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

Somewhere after telling embarrassing stories on the couch and Kihyun pulling a bottle of something untouched and overly-expensive from their cupboard, Jooheon found his gaze. It was so fleeting and meaningless, yet Minhyuk felt his heart thud, felt every bit of his world coming undone, shredding around him.

He thought that was it. The text message was engraved in his mind: _please min, this only makes it harder. stop calling me,_ and he thought Jooheon would stick to his words from five months ago and pretend like he didn't see him; go back to laughing with his friends, telling stories that Minhyuk was no longer a part of, and smiling, smiling so hard like he always does, with this new life that Minhyuk didn't exist in.

But Jooheon shot him another glance. Looked him up and down like he was sizing it up, before tapping a hand at Hoseok's elbow and joining Minhyuk on the staircase.

His hot chocolate was cold in his palms. Minhyuk blinked at him, slowly. "Hi," he uttered, because Jooheon was only staring at him like he was expecting something.

"Hey."

There was a second Minhyuk only looked up at him in incredulity. He seemed so tall, even though _of course_ he did, he was standing over him in a narrow stairway with this vintage Christmas sweater messily tucked into a pair of jeans that made his legs look like they could go on for days. 

He was so beautiful, like Minhyuk remembered. But he had looked at Jooheon's Instagram enough to expect what he'd look like. These days his hair was shorter and black, falling a little messily over his forehead, and Minhyuk wasn't sure if it had anything to do with how thick the button-down sweater clad on Jooheon, but he looked a lot slimmer.

Minhyuk wondered what Jooheon thought about him. He wasn't sure if he looked any different―or _better,_ that is―but he hadn't cut his hair in a while and he did impulsively dye it lilac last week, just for the sake of some change in his life. He's not having a midlife crisis, like Kihyun keeps telling Hoseok he is.

"Can I sit?" Jooheon asked.

"Oh, yeah," Minhyuk laughed, awkwardly. He scrambled over and Jooheon plopped into the little space that was left on the step. 

"It's good to see you, hyung," Jooheon said after a silence. His fingers were in his lap, and it was so distracting with the way they fiddled. "How are things? Hoseok mentioned you're now working at the daycare with him."

Minhyuk tried a smile and looked down at the cold liquid in his mug instead. He wasn't so sure how much he liked the thought of them talking about him to each other, but there was nothing else to expect when they all have the same friends. It's why Minhyuk expected Jooheon to be at Kihyun and Hoseok's ugly Christmas sweater party from the second he was invited. Kihyun asked him if it'd be okay over and over again, and Minhyuk pretended there was no reason for it not to be.

"Yeah, me and him work together now," he said. "I love it. The kids are really nice and they're always so full of energy. But I can keep up with them."

"Yeah, I bet you can," Jooheon laughed. He propped an elbow on his knee, hand cupped under his chin, and there was barely any light from the stairway, but Minhyuk swore his eyes twinkled. "You've always wanted to work with kids. I'm really happy for you, Min. I am."

"Thanks."

Minhyuk is usually good with finding words to fill a conversation, but he could barely think with the way Jooheon was looking at him.

"Um," he decided to stammer, "how have you been?"

"Good," Jooheon quickly smiled at him again, "I got a driver's license after moving in with Hyungwon hyung, but it's pretty pointless now. I was moved to a different hospital like directly into the city, so I just decided to move closer and now there's no reason to have a car."

"Cars are kind of overrated anyway. There's insurance, and then you have to pay gas all the time and get oil-check ups. I have no idea how people keep up with one."

"Me neither. I was borrowing my parents' old one for just three months and I was already over it." Jooheon shook his head at the thought. "I couldn't believe I was actually _happy_ to be back on the subway."

Minhyuk chuckled. 

"Anyway," Jooheon poked at the red, glowing nose on Minhyuk's sweater, where an embroidery Rudolph took up half of his chest, "I really like your sweater."

"Thanks."

There was cats all over Jooheon's with hearts trailing along the buttons in the center. Minhyuk smiled at it. 

"I like yours too. It's the perfect level of tacky."

Jooheon laughed. "Right? I found it from my parents' storage and my mom told me she got it as a Christmas present in, like, the '80s, or something. She's not getting it back."

Minhyuk laughed with him, quietly, and then absently sipped from his mug.

"Well," Jooheon suddenly said, "I should get going. I just wanted to come over and say hey."

"Oh, okay." Minhyuk grinned up at him as Jooheon stood to his feet, and tried to pretend he didn't feel a pang in his heart. It had been so long, too long; it was too soon to walk away, yet he knew there was no reason for Jooheon to stay any longer. There was nothing else to say, besides everything. Except, well, that was over now. Jooheon had made it more than clear he didn't want to hear anymore of the _everything_. "See you then."

"Yeah, see you around." 

Jooheon pocketed his hands and bowed a goodbye.

There was a burn in Minhyuk's eyes when he turned away. His hands were tight around the mug, pulse in his throat, and he could barely swallow, but somehow he was able to choke out his name.

Jooheon paused, and then turned around slowly, like he wasn't sure where the voice came from.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Minhyuk's words were an incomprehensible jumble in his head. He wanted to run at him and wrap his arms around Jooheon, pull him into his chest and tell him that he was better and he loved him and he missed him. He missed him so much that he could barely breathe.

"Jooheon-ah," Minhyuk said again, soft like a whisper. _I_   _miss you, Jooheonie. I miss you and I want to love you again. I want_ you _to love_ me _again._

Jooheon blinked at him. He only turned around half-way, practically looking over at him from his shoulder in anticipation. 

_please min, this only makes it harder._

"I ―"

Minhyuk chewed his lips, and then forced a bright smile. 

"Tell your mom I said hey," he decided.

A smile licked over Jooheon's mouth. He nodded, thumbs hanging from over his pockets. "Will do. Bye, hyung."

Minhyuk's fingers squeezed around the mug even tighter, the ceramic squeezing and squeezing into his palms so tightly he was surprised it hadn't shattered into a million black pieces.

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

Beside him, Jooheon stirs, the only inch he's moved in what feels like hours. 

Minhyuk doesn't know how much time has passed as he waited, panicking, checking his Jooheon's pulse over and over again because he's so fucking scared and everything feels so hopeless. That beating underneath his fingertips is the only bit of hope he has, and he's holding onto it as tightly as he can.

His phone has already died, but there's no service anyway. If Jooheon has any sort of battery it'd be no help.

They're really stuck here.

Jooheon stirs again, and then his eyes open, slowly. 

"Jooheon," Minhyuk sighs. He pulls Jooheon into his chest, stroking his hair. "You scared me. Are you okay?"

He groans in response.

"I know." There's a lump in Minhyuk's throat, but he can't let himself cry. He has to be strong. 

Jooheon is trembling again. He buries his face into the embroidery Rudolph and chokes out a muffled cry. Minhyuk squeezes his arms around him. It's so cold. The feeling in Minhyuk's fingers have left him a while ago, but he likes to think there's still warmth in Jooheon's body when he snuggles up against him.

"I'm scared," Jooheon whispers.

Minhyuk squeezes him again. "That's okay. I'll be tough so you can feel scared for both of us. But we'll get out of here, okay?"

"How?"

That's what Minhyuk hasn't thought of. He has no idea where they are, and the pieces of how this happened is so fragmented in his mind. The front of the car is just leaves, branches, and iced snow, shattered glass sprinkled everywhere else. Minhyuk can only see the passenger's seat, and he tries his best, for the sake of his sanity, to not let his imagination figure out what happened to their taxi driver.

The taxi is on its side ― that's as far as Minhyuk can make out from it. The other window, on the side Jooheon was, only shows the landscape of a night sky.

Minhyuk knows the car swerved. Not that he knows where or how they ended up here, but all he knows from the way the snow fell from the sky, darkness stretched over them with a bright moon that suddenly spun around him like he was a child again looking up at the sky in circles on a merry-go-round, is that they somehow crashed.

Jooheon is blinking up at him with teary eyes, waiting.

"I don't know how to get out," Minhyuk admits, "but I'll figure out something. Just help me get out of my seat belt for now."

Slowly, Jooheon sits up. There's blood still on his face that tugs at Minhyuk's heart, but he's seemingly untouched everywhere else, carefully crawling until he can feel around and get his fingers on the seat belt around Minhyuk's waist.

"If you just pull it as far as it can go then you should be able to reset it."

"Wait," Jooheon utters. He pauses for a second, and then a light fills the car. The light from his phone.

The mess of the front is more visible now. It looks like a tree smashed through the windshield. But how?

Minhyuk's head squeezes again. He blinks at Jooheon, but he's too distracted with something else. Gaping, holding the flashlight on his phone up. Right on him.

"W-what?" Minhyuk stutters, panicked. He's too scared to follow his eyes. Too scared to look down and see why the color has flooded from Jooheon's face. "What is it?"

Despite himself, he looks down. The light illuminates his torso completely, and it almost seems surreal ― almost ― the knitted green over him that's peppered with dumb red bows and pom-pom balls. Right through his side a thick branch pierces through his sweater, stained with a darker green that bleeds through the fabric and stains one of the white pom-poms red.

Minhyuk's eyes water.

"You don't feel that?" Jooheon asks. Whispering. They keep whispering back and forth to each other, as if they don't want someone to hear them, as if that's not exactly what could save them right now.

Minhyuk swallows. Even then he doesn't cry. He won't cry. "I didn't feel it before," he chokes out.

Yet now he feels it. A burn in his abdomen, like it's tingling. 

"We have to get out," Jooheon breathes. Tears are pouring down his face again, panicked breaths falling from his mouth, each inhale and exhale tight and sharp. "We have to get out. We have to get out. I'm going to lose my fucking mind ―"

"Jooheon-ah, come here. You're panicking."

He buries his face into his chest again, where Rudolph is, and lets Minhyuk smooth a hand over his hair. It worries him with how Jooheon's blood paints his hands. He doesn't even know where on his head, or face, all the blood is coming from. But he's not sure if knowing where the wound is would do anything anyway. Minhyuk doesn't know anything about nursing someone.

He knows about what to do if a three-year-old throws up at daycare, or just how hard to pat a child's back if they choke during snack time. This ― the blood plastered over Jooheon's face and the fact he's fucking _impaled_ is beyond any of his knowledge.

But it just feels good to know how to do _something_. Stroking Jooheon's hair, smoothing his thumb over the shape of Jooheon's brow, because he knows how that calms him, comes just as naturally as the two syllables of Jooheon's name slipping from his lips when he woke up.

Jooheon's crying again, but he's breathing normally. Slower. His body only quivers slightly with his hands at his arms, holding Minhyuk there tightly.

"What are we going to do?" he mumbles into his sweater.

Minhyuk doesn't know. He wishes that he did. He wishes he could make this all better.

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

Minhyuk didn't want to be here. 

But he'd already pretended it'd be okay knowing every minute Jooheon would be somewhere breathing the same air as him, talking to the same people Minhyuk talks to, barely an eye-shot away. So, he just had to go ahead and play along.

For a second it would feel like nothing separates them, like they're really a part of the same world. They would pass by each other like strangers, and just from that no one could ever tell that Jooheon used to kiss him until he could feel it in his veins. No one could tell that every night Jooheon ended up curled in his arms, all soft eyes and soft warmth and soft muscle, while his fingers traced patterns in Jooheon's golden skin.

The thought bothered him. It bothered them that things had to be different. It bothered him that Jooheon was so okay without him while Minhyuk felt like just a mere thought of him crumbled his world into pieces.

But maybe that's how things had to end. 

He knew Jooheon cared about him and loved him, once upon a time. He knew Jooheon tried with him as much as he could. Then he got tired. Then he couldn't try anymore. Then he stopped loving him. Then he stopped caring about him. Like a chain reaction.

After a few hours, Minhyuk was tired of being out of his home. Everyone was just drunk by now and messily singing along to Kihyun's rendition of "Jingle Bells" on the keyboard. Only a few months ago this would have been somewhere Minhyuk fit perfectly. Probably as the loud one leading it. But he just felt weird being here. The more he sat around, trying to smile and trying to like the taste of spiked drinks, this itching feeling that he didn't belong grew until it was all over him.

It made no sense. He was surrounded by all his friends and on the same couch he had sat on over and over again coloring mandalas with Kihyun and eating microwavable dinners with Hoseok whenever Kihyun would be at the law firm too late.

What was different now? Well, besides the everything. The fact he wasn't as happy anymore, or that he was too embarrassed to talk to Kihyun and Hoseok or even look them in the eye for months ― those facts surely had something to do with it.

Minhyuk got up from the couch with a quiet yawn. He already called a taxi fifteen minutes ago. It would probably be a good idea to tell Kihyun or Hoseok he was leaving, but Minhyuk supposed he could always shoot them a text later. Not that they would notice he was missing any time soon.

The taxi waited for him by the sidewalk trailing along Kihyun and Hoseok's house. He slipped in and looked out through the window, the lights peering in from Kihyun and Hoseok's house, like there would be someone waiting for him.

Somehow there was.

Minhyuk widened his eyes as Jooheon carefully pattered down the snow-clad steps. He didn't want another awkward conversation, another reminder that he didn't know Jooheon as well as he did five months ago, and that Jooheon barely had a grasp on who he was now.

He could roll out from the other side of the taxi and make a run for it. Or, just beg the taxi driver to ignore the little wave Jooheon gave for it to wait for him, maybe slip in a little extra dollars for him to take off as fast as he could down the street.

But Jooheon pulled the door open, smiling softly, and Minhyuk naturally slid onto the other side of the car for him.

"Thanks for waiting," he nodded to the driver. When he looked at him, Minhyuk's heart seemed to have forgot its rhythm. Every moment with Jooheon is like a movie. The Christmas lights decorating the columns and roof of Kihyun and Hoseok's house spilled through the car windows and painted Jooheon's sweet smile in red and green that was nothing less than pulled right from a scene of a classic Western film. "Hi," he said, this time speaking the first words to him, "again."

"Hi," Minhyuk stupidly replied. He strapped his seat belt on and sat back, trying to only focus his eyes on Hoseok and Kihyun's house drifting away as the taxi took off.

Secretly, Minhyuk had always been jealous of how put-together everything was about Kihyun and Hoseok. They already owned a big house together, (which he knew was an inheritance, but still,) and every problem they had seemed so small and repairable. They rarely did things without each other either, and Kihyun always complained about Hoseok never leaving him alone with this small smile on his face that anyone could see. Ever since high school Hoseok and Kihyun already knew they were going to be together forever, and they'd been pretty well with staying true to that for years.

Minhyuk and Jooheon couldn't even keep a promise like that for two.

"Not feeling it?" Jooheon asked. Slowly, Minhyuk dragged his eyes to him, face blank. "The party, I mean. Were you not feeling the party."

"Oh, no, it was fun." A tight smile tugged on Minhyuk's lips he hoped wasn't as painful to look at as it was to pull on his face. "It's nice being with everyone again, but my mom's waiting for me at home. And anyway, Dambi is really clingy. She must be wondering where I am by now."

Jooheon only nodded. Hopefully he'd forgotten how to tell when Minhyuk was spewing bullshit. "You're back with your parents?" he questioned then, this faint furrow in his brows like the thought saddened him for some reason.

"Yup." Minhyuk found a game on his phone, just to keep his heart from running wild whenever their eyes locked. "After the lease was up at our place I didn't see the point of renewing it."

"Oh, okay."

"I'm not really the type to be on my own anyway," Minhyuk half-heartedly chuckled. Why was he explaining it? There was nothing that needed to be explained. Jooheon left _him_. Jooheon packed his things and stayed with Hyungwon to get away from _him_. It was up to Minhyuk to figure out what to do with the house after that, and easily he'd decided to let it go. 

"Makes sense," Jooheon nodded, again. He pursed his lips, and then looked out the window.

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

 

"Still no service?"

Light suddenly glows over Jooheon's still face. Pursing his lips, he slowly shakes his head. "I don't think we're going to get service, Minhyuk."

"I'm out of ideas," Minhyuk sighs. "We could break the window? Too bad people don't just miraculously leave bricks lying around."

"It's over," Jooheon grumbles. He's on his back, staring at the car window opened to night. This stream of moonlight now shines in, illuminating the tears that brim Jooheon's eyes. "That's it. We're done. It's over."

"Don't say that."

"We're out of ideas."

"So? We'll think of more ideas."

"With that branch in your stomach? We can't even do anything about that, Min, what do we do with everything else?"

"I don't know, okay? But you can't just give up," Minhyuk tells him, firmly. "It's only over when you give up, and I'm not letting you give up on me. Or you."

Jooheon lets out a sigh. He brings two fingers to his head and winces.

"Is your head still bleeding?"

"I don't know." Jooheon sniffs. He wipes the sleeve of his sweater at his nose. "It stings, though. I think I hit it again when I fell."

"Sorry about that."

"You should be sorry," Jooheon playfully chides. He feels around in his hair again, and quietly hisses in pain despite the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Did you really think I could defy the laws of gravity after you unbuckled my seat belt?"

"I wasn't thinking," Minhyuk laughs. His stomach burns from it, and he coughs, eyes fleetingly fluttering closed. "I just knew you were scared and I wanted to get you out of it."

"That's okay. There's kind of a branch in your belly, so I think we're even."

Their quiet laughs rattle in the silence. Minhyuk brings a hand to his belly, carefully fingering where the branch fits through the knitted sweater, into his skin. His eyes water again, but he chokes it down, swallows around the lump that's back in his throat, teasing him.

"I really missed you, hyung."

There's a second Minhyuk feels his heart stop. He bites at his lips and looks over. Jooheon's eyes are still out the window, watching the moon. And then for a second he feels a rush of anger. For a second he wants to kick and scream, fist his hands in Jooheon's ugly Christmas sweater and yell about how many nights he's stayed awake because there's no one beside him to curl into, how he cried so much that he threw up when Jooheon left him and now he wants to say all this time he's missed him?

He could have said that months ago. _Weeks_ ago, even, and Minhyuk would have willingly ran into his arms.

But then he thinks of how close Jooheon is to him. How long he's went without even hearing his voice and how he doesn't know where they're going to end up in a few hours, or even when the sun begins to rise and the car is flooded with its light. He finds Jooheon's hand in the dark, slips his palm in his.

"I missed you, too."

Jooheon is still staring at the window. He barely smiles.

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

 It's three AM. Jooheon's phone rests on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he takes, filling the car with soft music that doesn't really do much to cheer them up.

Minhyuk is starting to feel uncomfortable. He isn't really sure how comfortable he can really feel with a branch inside of him, but his limbs have already gone numb from the cold. It feels like he doesn't even have feet anymore, or any of his ten fingers. Frostbites are going to cover every inch of his skin by the time he makes it out of here ― if he makes it out of here.

No. _When._  

He's going to make it out of here. _They're_ going to make it out of here.

"Whenever I imagined dying, I always imagined being really old," Jooheon utters. Randomly. His words are slower now, more drowsy and laced with exhaustion. Minhyuk hopes it has nothing to do with the dried blood smothered on his cheek. "Like when you've already lived your life, so you're not scared of anything anymore. In my head I always wanted it to be complete. An end, and a beginning. Not like this. Not when I have so much left, and so many other things I have to do."

Minhyuk looks over at him. "Like what?"

"Like," Jooheon sniffs, "I still haven't bought a house, or adopted three kids. I'm not anywhere near opening up my own entertainment company either. I don't even have a name for it, and it's been my dream ever since middle school."

"Three kids?"

"That's all you got from that?" he pretends to snap, feigning exasperation with his arms crossed over his chest. "Anyway, wouldn't you want three kids?"

Minhyuk chuckles. Actually, he wouldn't mind having three kids. If he could raise them with Jooheon.

He looks back out the window again, the only place there is to look, and chews his chapped lips. "I always told myself before I die, I need to mend things with you."

The song on his phone changes. Jooheon doesn't say anything.

"I still love you, Jooheon."

"I love you, too." It leaves his lips more easily than Minhyuk expects, and it warms his heart―the only warmth he can possibly feel in this car―when Jooheon looks at him like he really means it. "I could never stop caring about you. Or loving you."

"Then why did you leave me?" 

Minhyuk forgets he promised himself not to cry. There's tears in his eyes as soon as he's hit with the distance that's really between them, tears stinging at his eyes worse than the pain in his abdomen.

"You know why, hyung."

"Because I'm too broken for you?" 

"Stop it. That's not why, and you know it."

"Then why?" Tears roll down his cheeks. They feel like ice on his skin, dripping from his chin in cold water. "What am I supposed to think? You treated me like I was your everything, and then you left me when things got hard. That's what happened."

Jooheon sighs, lazily scratches at the other side of his hair. "That's not what happened. At all."

"Then what happened?" Minhyuk asks, louder. "I dare you to tell me I'm lying. I needed you and you left me, that's the story."

"It was too much," Jooheon says, like he's told him before. To his face. Over that fucking text message. "You know I will always love you, hyung, but it was just too much. I didn't know what to do, and you didn't even want me to help. Every time I tried you just kept pushing me away, and I couldn't do it. I _can't_. I can't break myself trying to fix you."

And it's stupid, somehow he's impaled by a branch, stuck in a car in the middle of who-knows-where, and yet this is what has him bursting into tears, sobbing pathetically in his hands. "Let's not talk anymore," Minhyuk decides through small breaths.

Another sigh brushes past Jooheon's lips. He picks up his phone, changes the song, and rests it on his chest again. "Good idea."

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

Minhyuk's mom wasn't too happy when Minhyuk told her he was moving out to rent a house with Jooheon. It wasn't a big deal to Minhyuk, or the fact they were making such a drastic step in their relationship after only three months of officially being boyfriends. He'd known Jooheon for years. Years of getting close to him as just purely a person who had the prettiest dimples and always made Minhyuk laugh. Nothing about it was a big deal. There didn't seem to be any other way they could get to know each other.

They moved everything into the house in one day. Minhyuk brought his parents out to help, and Jooheon dragged out his little brother and Hoseok who both only agreed because of a buffet bribe.

"You're really serious about this," his mom said. Not a question, a statement. Things were far too beyond definite for Minhyuk's bubbling excitement and certainty to be questionable.

An inkling of aversion was still discernible on his mom's face, but Minhyuk told himself, (even it did inwardly break his heart to disappoint her,) there will always be some choices he'll make his mother won't be as proud of. And anyway, moving in together was better for both him and Jooheon. Minhyuk's parents lived too far from the elementary school he was just hired to, and Jooheon's internship at the children's hospital was barely a ten-minute subway ride from their neighborhood.

"I'm really serious," Minhyuk agreed, squinting around the bright sun over them. So far the living room and bedroom was already filled with their furniture and random belongings. It looked a bit messy, and kind of like a game room, but it looked like them and Minhyuk loved it. "I'm really serious about Jooheon too."

She nodded. "I know."

"We work really well together," Minhyuk told her, and this moonstruck smile was still on his face, so excited about his life, so excited about starting this new chapter of it with Jooheon. "And he keeps me grounded, so don't worry."

She only looked at him.

" _Most_ of the time," he quickly corrected. "Most of the time he keeps me grounded."

"Jooheon is a good boy, Minhyuk-ah. Don't drive him crazy."

Minhyuk playfully gasped. "You're worried about _me_ driving him crazy? Jooheon puts up such a front around you it's unbelievable. _He's_ the one who drives me crazy."

"Stop lying," Jooheon smiled, pushing through the door of the house― _their_ house―with a smudge of sweat slicked over his forehead. It was one of the hottest days of summer, which was why Minhyuk had already taken his break and lounged on the porch swing with his mom and a handheld fan while his dad, Jooheon and little Jooheon and Hoseok popped in and out of their house drenched in sweat and hauling in furniture.

There was a tray of lemonade and Coke in Jooheon's hands for them. He placed the Coke in Minhyuk's palm, and then presented the lemonade for his mom, bowing shyly as she took it, beaming.

Minhyuk bit at his smile and pressed the cool can to his forehead. Already Jooheon was husband material.

"You don't have to worry so much about us, Mom," Jooheon reassured her. He plopped by Minhyuk's side, snuggling into him despite the older boy's weak complaints and disapproving squirms about him being gross and sweaty. "If I flick him in the forehead hard enough he usually listens."

His mom let out a quiet laugh. "That's what I had to do to him in middle school."

Minhyuk pouted while Jooheon laughed with her.

She sipped from the straw in her glass, this fond smile tugging at her lips, and Minhyuk mentally crossed his fingers she wouldn't start crying. She did that a lot. Over almost everything. It was an awful habit Minhyuk had picked up from her. "You're sure you want to see Minhyuk every day?"

 _"Mom,"_ Minhyuk whined. 

"I'm positive," Jooheon smiled. Minhyuk smiled back at him and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist, suddenly forgetting how sweaty he was. Suddenly, he no longer cared. "Are _you_ sure you want to see me every day, Lee Minhyuk?"

Minhyuk looked at him, and then his lips. If it weren't for his mother sitting right beside them he would've smothered him in kisses. Over his lips, all over his squishy cheeks. "Of course I want to see you every day. And I want to see you every day after it."

It felt like vows. It felt like, in just three months, Minhyuk was making a promise. And the way Jooheon grinned at him with his cheeks pushing at his eyes and this cute little scrunch of his nose, was the only response Minhyuk thought he would ever need.

But maybe his mom's uncertainty was fair. Maybe they sped through this too fast. Maybe things were too quick for the both of them to brace for it. Maybe that was just the first layer of everything becoming too much.

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

Waking up beside Jooheon never failed to bring a smile to Minhyuk's face. 

Every morning, a reminder tucked into his side that Jooheon was really his, that he had really found someone who made him happy, someone who made him fall in love all over again just from the way he yawned into his hand with sleepy eyes and spoke with the morning as a soft scratch in his voice.

It was different now that they were on their own together. Something was more special, more satisfying, about fluttering his eyes opened to the alarm blaring from Jooheon's phone and his boyfriend pressed against him. 

"Slept well?" Jooheon rasped.

The morning was always droopy-eyed and slow―falling asleep on time was a problem when they could never shut up when they were together, when Minhyuk much rather kiss bruises on Jooheon's mouth and find each childhood scar littering his skin instead of sleeping. Minhyuk blinked up at him and nodded, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

Jooheon smoothed a hand over his back. "Up, Min," he yawned, patting his butt, "we already hit snooze once."

"Just a few more cuddles," Minhyuk whined. He pulled Jooheon closer into him and held him tightly against his chest.

"I have to get to the subway," Jooheon weakly argued, despite willingly tangling his legs with Minhyuk again, the sheets wrinkling. Frustrated, Minhyuk kicked them off to the bottom of the bed with one leg. Jooheon was a much better comforter. "The school year starts today, hyung. It's your first day, remember?"

"They can wait."

Jooheon chuckled as Minhyuk stubbornly rolled on top of him like a human blanket. Finally, he wrapped his arms around him, one hand caressing Minhyuk's back. His palm left goosebumps from the cold, but Minhyuk still fell into it, eyes fluttering closed with his face in Jooheon's neck.

"Are you excited?" Jooheon asked. 

"Yeah." Minhyuk smiled at the thought. "I still really want to teach, though. A relationship with the kids is more intimate with teachers than a counselor. I wish I had your job."

"Internship," Jooheon promptly corrected, slowly trailing his fingers up Minhyuk's spine like he could count all its discs.

Minhyuk playfully rolled his eyes and sat up to look at him. He folded his hands over Jooheon's bare chest. "Well, still, you get paid for it. And I bet the kids are always so happy to see you come into their room with your guitar."

"It's sad, though," Jooheon told him. "I love music therapy, but I don't always know when I'll be able to see the kids again, or if they'll get worse. Something sucks about every job. Don't worry about your own, okay? Everyone will love you. There's still time to be a teacher. A lot of time."

"Yeah," Minhyuk smiled. He kissed Jooheon's chest and sat up, straddling him. "We should get to our kids now."

"We should," Jooheon hummed. They interlocked fingers, and he smiled up at him, holding up Minhyuk's weight as he bent down to press a close-mouthed kiss to his lips. "Or we could cuddle just a bit more."

Minhyuk let out a laugh. "And then you wouldn't make it to the subway on time."

"Just a _bit_ more," Jooheon said, again.

They both chuckled, and Minhyuk snuggled into his chest again. Legs tangled, nosing the line of Jooheon's neck, it felt like there was nothing but this. Nothing but time.

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

The metal on a seat belt doesn't help with breaking a car window. Minhyuk already knew that would be too easy, but he doesn't say anything when Jooheon decides to climb to the other side of the car and vigorously try with the seat belt for half an hour. He gives up after accidentally punching the window and carefully climbs back down to lie beside him again.

"What jerk made car windows so hard to break?" Jooheon mutters, lugubriously cradling his fist. He tucks it into his parka and lets out a sigh, gazing through the damned window again that could so easily be the answers to all of their problems. But of course nothing is ever easy.

Jooheon carefully rolls over onto his side so that Minhyuk can only see the hood of his parka. His voice wavers when he utters, "No one ever tells you how to break tempered glass because you never need to know, and then things like this happen and you don't know what to do."

Minhyuk watches the moon. "At least I know how to graph trigonometric functions."

"You don't even know how to solve trigonometric functions."

"Like you know either."

"I don't," Jooheon says, flatly.

There's not a tinge of humor in either of their voices. Minhyuk's really too tired to talk, something he never thought he would know the feeling of, but the silence between them is torturous. Just sitting here with Jooheon's words ringing in his ears, trying to pretend he's okay and that each one didn't feel like a punch to his wounded gut.

It hurt every time he read those words on the screen of his phone, widened the hole in his heart just a little bit more each time. Hearing it out loud, after all these months of reading it in his own voice, shatters it entirely.

 _Damn you,_ Minhyuk inwardly scowls at the window. What the hell is its secret? 

"We've been here for possibly four hours," Jooheon sighs. The car fills with another song from Jooheon's phone, something happy and upbeat with bright and cheery voices of a girl group―an unsettling disparity to how the two of them shiver against the leather seats, lips blue, skin nearly colorless. "What happens if no one ever finds us?"

It's right on the tip of his tongue: _someone will find us._

But Minhyuk is already tired, and he's tired of being optimistic. Someone _could_ end up never finding them. The sun could rise and they could possibly still be here wedged between the driver's seat and the backseat, hungry and freezing and dehydrated.

"We could die," Jooheon whispers.

Minhyuk thinks he'll burst into tears again, but he doesn't hear any heavy breaths or sniffs, not even one hiccup. Like he's already accepted it.

"What's my family gonna do, you know?" he continues. His teeth chatter, and Minhyuk thinks he would feel the tremble of his body in his own if only he could feel anything at all. "My little brother ― I didn't even get to say goodbye to him. And what about our friends? They just think we're perfectly fine. What if they don't know how much we love them?"

"I'm sure they know," Minhyuk tells him, even though he can't help contemplating the same thing.

If they do die, what about everything else? He didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Hoseok and Kihyun. They probably don't know he's gone. They probably haven't even noticed he's gone.

He never told his parents he was heading back home. He didn't even say goodbye to them before he left to the Christmas party, or his little brother, who he hasn't seen in months.

"Was it easy for you?" Jooheon asks then, slowly, like he's hesitant about even knowing the answer. "Thinking about leaving everyone behind?"

"No."

Carefully, Jooheon turns around. He stares at him, blankly. His teeth chatter again when he speaks, "Are you happy now, Min?"

And Minhyuk wishes it could just be a simple answer.

These days, life doesn't seem like it's passing by without him. He feels more in control of his feelings, more aware of what he can fix in his life and what he can't, more aware of how much he means to people, knowing he has to also find what meaning he has to himself because self-worth is supposed to be pivotal to not letting all his feelings and problems shake and crumble all over him like an earthquake.

That should mean he's happy. His smiles are more sincere these days. He doesn't feel like he needs to be by himself anymore, closed into a room and locked away from people, even though people is how he recharges himself.

But it's still hard to really feel happy when Jooheon won't talk to him, when Jooheon doesn't want anything to do with him, when the last time he saw Jooheon was five months ago with tears gleaming his eyes as he cried out how he can't take this, how he can't take _him_. 

And he knows he can't put so much reliance on a human being, but sometimes Minhyuk really feels like he can't live without Jooheon's laugh and Jooheon's smile and their meaningless banter that always ends with chuckles and long kisses, and no matter how pathetic letting one person hold his heart within his hands with all the power to just crush it in his palms is, it's true. Minhyuk doesn't really know if he's all right if Jooheon isn't close to him.

"No," Minhyuk admits, "I'm not happy."

 _Not without you,_ he wants to say.  _I'm in love with someone who has the power to be as inconsistent as I can, someone who will inevitably make mistakes, someone who will inevitably let people down, and yet because I don't have you, I'm not happy._

Jooheon purses his lips, and his eyes water when his unsteady hand comes out to touch Minhyuk's hair. It's too long now ― Minhyuk knows that's what he's thinking. 

But he doesn't say anything about it. His fingers are soft, softer than any touch Minhyuk has felt in months, lacing in Minhyuk's lilac strands and pushing a single one behind his ear.

"Me neither," he whispers, just to him, trailing his finger down the shape of Minhyuk's ear and the line of his neck where his overgrown fringe stops. "I'm not happy either."

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

Minhyuk cried after his first week of work.

With his back against the door of the laundry room, face buried in his knees as the washer machine ran so Jooheon couldn't find him from the sound of his pathetic sobs.

Jooheon heard him anyway. 

He ignored the first few knocks, tried to pretend he wasn't sobbing on the cold tiles and was really just washing clothes, like he told Jooheon he would. But it was hard to ignore Jooheon when all he wanted was to bury his face in his shirt and pour out all of his emotions.

Jooheon pulled him into his arms after he finally unlocked the door. Minhyuk willingly slipped into his lap and curled in it like a fetus, crying loudly with every feeling he locked away into Jooheon's shoulder.

"I don't want to go back there," Minhyuk whimpered. His body trembled as he let out another sob, clutching onto Jooheon's tee shirt. "I hate it. The whole administration hates me, and they treat me like a fucking kid. Like I don't know what I'm doing."

At first, Jooheon didn't say anything. He only patted his back.

"The woman at the front office got in my face and yelled at me like I was a student. She said I kept messing up everyone's homerooms, but how am I supposed to know how to do anything if no one will help? It's only my first week. I don't know how to do this. I couldn't even say anything back because she's my sunbae. I just wanted to lock myself in my washroom and cry. I'm the worst counselor ever."

"You're still learning," Jooheon reassured him in this gentle voice Minhyuk tried to fall into. His hand was soft and consistent, petting over Minhyuk's hair.

"They don't care that I'm still learning. Everyone thinks I'm awful, and I know I'm awful. I couldn't even work the computers. They're from ages ago and I'm too stupid to figure out how to use them. I'm so stupid."

"I didn't even know how to use those computers when I was a kid. You're not stupid."

"I'm a fucking idiot."

Jooheon sighed and rested his forehead on the side of Minhyuk's head. "You're not an idiot, hyung."

"I feel like an idiot. Why can't I just teach kids how to draw? This isn't for me. I'm never going to be good at this job."

"Don't say that," Jooheon pouted. "You know how to figure out things. You're hard-working and you're smart, and when something is hard you figure out how to do it. I swear you'll get the hang of it if you keeping trying. But you have to give it time. A week isn't enough to decide whether you hate something or not."

"I think it's plenty of time," Minhyuk muttered.

Jooheon laughed and patted his back. "Of course you think that. Just give it a month or so, and then things will get better."

In a month, things didn't get any better, or the few months after it. The administrators blatantly wanted nothing to do with Minhyuk. He'd tried, even. Baking the administrators cookies for lunch―baked from his heart, right out of the packet―running off to chat with a group of admins during their smoke break, tagging along to the admin dinner and noraebang week after week with nothing but more bitterness to come out of it.

Minhyuk had even gotten better at being a counselor, but that was just something for the front office lady to look over. Still, she was expected to nitpick at everything little thing he did below her standards each week like he was a little kid.

He didn't know why they hated him. He was trying his best, yet his best was just a failure to everyone else. It was draining trying to reach everyone else's standards. Minhyuk was over being belittled. He was over feeling out of place and ridiculed for every simple mistake.

"You're still in bed?" Jooheon asked when he came out the washroom one morning.

Minhyuk was, in fact, still swaddled in bed, cooped up in the blankets with a bowl of cereal and his laptop at his side. Slowly, he slurped the milk from his spoon.

"Summer break hasn't started yet, has it?"

"No," Minhyuk replied, toneless. He placed his bowl of cereal on the bed and pursed his lips. "I quit."

There was a second Jooheon just stared at him. Only half of his arm was in his cardigan. "You did what?" he finally said.

"I quit," Minhyuk repeated. Nonchalantly, he picked up his bowl again, ignoring the way Jooheon gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish swimming idly in water.

"You just  _quit?_ Just like that?"

"I told you I hated it there."

"So, you find another job," Jooheon told him, and Minhyuk winced at the way his voice rose, this tinge of a scold in his tone that made Minhyuk want to curl into the blankets and disappear. He didn't want to be shouted at _again_  as if he was some child who forgot to turn in his science project. He wanted Jooheon to understand. He wanted Jooheon to comfort him. "You can't just quit out of nowhere with nothing to fall back on, for heaven's sake, Minhyuk. What the hell? Do you realize we live on our own now?"

"Stop yelling at me," Minhyuk frowned.

Jooheon dryly laughed, shoved his other arm in the sleeve of his cardigan. "What is your plan? Just sitting around and eating Lucky Charms?"

"I'm looking for another job."

For proof, Minhyuk turned around his laptop where an untouched application was opened in the tab. Jooheon only sighed at it and snatched his guitar case from the nightstand, murmuring under his breath as he strapped it over his chest.

"You can't make impulsive decisions like this," Jooheon said. Sighing, he crawled onto the bed, pulling away Minhyuk's bowl of cereal so he could hold his hand. "Our rent is almost two-million won. Talk to me first next time? Please? Neither of us can afford to make impulsive decisions."

Minhyuk was still frowning. "I did talk to you first."

"Not about quitting." 

He had a point. Minhyuk sheepishly looked down, chewed at his lips. It was wrong to not talk to Jooheon about quitting, but he just couldn't. There was no way for Jooheon to understand when he could roll out of bed to his job―quote, unquote 'internship'―every morning without feeling like shit, without feeling like he rather dig himself a hole to the inner core of the Earth.

He didn't want to talk about quitting, talk about giving up, because he didn't want  _this._ He didn't want to see Jooheon look at him with disappointment laced in his eyes. Disappointing Jooheon was even worse than infuriating him. 

"I get it," Minhyuk murmured. He reluctantly looked up at him, and Jooheon soothingly stroked his thumb over his knuckles. "I'm really sorry, Jooheon-ah. I should've talked to you about it. I'll find another job as fast as I can."

Jooheon kissed his forehead, and then his mouth, before standing up. "I have to get going now. I love you."

"I love you, too."

He lingered in the doorway a little longer than usual, this incomprehensible frown on his lips, before he weakly smiled and disappeared past the wall.

 

 

 

 

. . . 

 

 

 

 

As promised, Minhyuk found another job as quickly as he could. The pay was conspicuously less, but it met his other half of the rent every month. So, he tried not to complain.

It could be worse, he tried to tell himself, and that was the only thing that could possibly keep him from bursting into tears.

He hated it. Maybe even more than being singled out at an elementary school every day. At least then he didn't have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to fry chicken. At least then he didn't spend every hour of his shift standing in a hot and humid kitchen, out of breath and running around while the shift leader shouted orders and sweat beaded down his forehead. 

Minhyuk even sucked at frying chicken. The first day after training, his chicken was half-cooked. The manager yelled at him, threw each chicken breast in trash, and made him cook it all over again while an exasperated worker watched his every move like a hawk.

He even sucked at pouring fountain drinks. The second week, five drinks had ended up all over him. The shift leader didn't spare any words for him. Only a sigh. Minhyuk worked the rest of the day with sticky shoes and a stained uniform.

It was like he couldn't do anything right. Sure, by the third week he had it down. He could fry the chicken just right each morning, even half-asleep. Drinks ended up on his uniform only seldom, after a point. He became a bit quicker and agile, even when sometimes he was forced into taking extra shifts and his legs ached from standing too long and he sometimes felt a little light-headed from hours of no water in a space of humidity.

"Good day?" Jooheon would ask whenever he came back from the restaurant reeking of chicken and sweat, and Jooheon would still wrap him in his arms and kiss him like he had just slept in a bed of roses.

"Yup," Minhyuk lied, always, with a bright smile because he didn't want Jooheon to worry. Because he didn't want him to be disappointed again.

Everything felt far from _good._ When Minhyuk told his mother he was working at a chicken restaurant, she cried. And he tried to tell himself it was nothing because she always cried. They were both known as the sensitive ones between his little brother and dad. Every little thing could have tears filling their eyes, especially his mom.

But he knew what those tears were, what every bit that look she gave him held when she took him by the hand. Disappointment. She was disappointed, and Minhyuk felt it too. Minhyuk wanted to cry too. 

He wondered what could've happened if he just told Jooheon how he felt about quitting. Maybe Jooheon would have stopped him; maybe then he wouldn't have made his mom cry for him on their living room couch, or maybe then he wouldn't have to wake up every morning before the sun had a chance to rise with this feeling in his gut of being a failure.

But he had to be happy. When Jooheon came from the hospital with a bright smile on his face and a bag of tteokbokki in his hand, scooping Minhyuk in his arms and shouting about his promotion, Minhyuk had to be happy.

He was happy. He gaped as he should, and he threw himself into Jooheon's arms again when he pulled away, squeezing him tightly.

"I'm a music therapist," Jooheon spoke into existence, gaping at it himself. He spun Minhyuk around again before they both lost their balance, messily knocking over into the wall at the door with laughs. "I'm a music therapist, hyung! Full-time!"

A smile licked over Minhyuk's face, because he was happy. "You worked so hard, Jooheonie," he told him, petting his hair. "My baby is all grown-up. I'm so happy for you."

No one could possibly understand how he felt. Minhyuk really was a failure, and he knew it.

After how hard he worked to get his degree, how many times he rehearsed for his job interview at the elementary school and redid his tie over and over again before his mother finally forced him out the door, this is where he ended up. A chicken restaurant.  

Minhyuk was happy for Jooheon as well as he could, but he cried in the bathtub after Jooheon fell asleep, no longer having it in himself to hold it in anymore. His legs and feet ached. He was so tired and so stressed out, and it took everything in him to not burst into a loud wail, throwing his head back and sobbing loudly like a newborn baby.

A cigarette dangled from his lips as he soaked in the suds of some flowery-scented shower gel Jooheon swore he didn't like, tears silently dripping from his chin. It didn't really matter how long he bathed; he'd still smell like all he amounted to, a chicken restaurant.

 

 

 

 

. . . 

 

 

 

 

"Are you okay?" Jooheon asked.

It was so sudden. In the middle of a bus he was staring at him like he could see right through Minhyuk's blank stare. Minhyuk wondered what sort of look he could have possibly been giving off that could have made it seem like he was anything but okay.

He barely had any memory where he escaped as he watched the way the city blurred past the windows, bus rolling off toward their neighborhood. Had he fallen asleep? One of his co-workers did give him a good tip about sleeping while standing up a week before.

Minhyuk blinked. "What? Yeah, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Jooheon said, skeptical, and Minhyuk didn't like it. He felt cornered somehow, even though it was just a simple question and the way Jooheon furrowed his brows was anything but an insincere concern. "Were you even listening to anything I said?"

"I was listening," Minhyuk defended himself, quickly. But only because he was used to it. He had to lie so that he wouldn't make the people around him worry, and even though he hated lying to Jooheon, he didn't like him being suspicious about him and his feelings. 

Jooheon just looked at him, and Minhyuk could feel his heart speeding up, panicking. Suddenly, he felt naked, like Jooheon could see every emotion that had been assiduously locked inside. "You've been really distant," he mentioned.

"No I haven't."

"Come on," Jooheon sighed, suddenly frustrated, "I just told an entire story about one of my patients and you probably can't even tell me his name. It's been happening for months too. You just disappear away in your head, and it's like I can't reach you. What is it, Min?"

"What? Nothing."

 _"Min,"_ Jooheon pleaded. His fingers found Minhyuk's through the grocery bags they were holding, fingers lightly brushing against each other. "You can talk to me about anything, you know that."

"I know."

"Then what is it?"

"It's nothing."

"Don't do that, hyung. Don't lock me out."

"I'm not locking you out of anything," he huffed, and he didn't mean for the bite to be there in his voice, but he was becoming uncomfortable, antsy. This conversation needed to end. But Jooheon was so persistent, tugging at his hand and whining softly.

"Hyung, talk to me ―"

Minhyuk snatched his hand away. "It's nothing," he snapped.

Jooheon paused, widened his eyes. A few startled glances were shot at the two boys, before the passengers in ear-shot gradually returned to minding their own business.

"Okay," Jooheon muttered, and Minhyuk's heart sank with his shoulders. "Just know I'm always here for you, all right?"

Minhyuk should have apologized. He felt bad for yelling at Jooheon, but instead he just pursed his lips and looked away.

They didn't bother saying any other words for the rest of the ride. Jooheon left to the hospital after they put all their groceries away, giving Minhyuk this half-hearted kiss on the cheek, mumbling a weak goodbye.

He was mad at him. He should have been.

And like an idiot Minhyuk was too tired to do anything about it.

(It was the second layer of everything becoming too much.) 

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

 

"You probably won't believe me, but I didn't just forget about you," Jooheon tells him. He's rolled into a ball by now, parka zipped to his chin with the hood pulled over his head. "I really wanted to move on for a while. I thought it'd make me happy."

Minhyuk can't think of any words to get past his lips. He's right; it seems like a lie. It feels like there's no way someone could care about him after walking away. All this time he was away, every second that passed with this palpable hole in their home, only felt like he was drifting from Jooheon even more. 

The thought of him still crossing Jooheon's mind after all this time, it's too unrealistic to just be said. There's no way his absence could have hurt him in the same way. There was no way not having Minhyuk with him could have possibly left him feeling permanently unfixable. 

"Why didn't you move on then?" Minhyuk asks.

"I was scared. I am scared," Jooheon answers after a fleeting silence. He won't break the stare they're holding on each other, like he's trying to prove something. "If I move onto someone else it won't be you. It will never be what we had."

Again, Minhyuk is lost for any coherent words. He shivers and wraps his arms around himself like at this point it could actually do something to warm him.

He wants to believe him. He wants to believe even after all this time Jooheon still loved him. He wants to believe the thought of his smile and the feel of his fingertips is really what kept him from moving on after all this time.

"You can hate me. It's okay. You can think I abandoned you, or see me as an awful person now, even," he continues, each word slow and careful. "But my feelings didn't just  _poof_ when I left. I won't let you think I broke up with you because I didn't care anymore."

"We could have fixed it."

Jooheon pauses. "Maybe. But I can't do it on my own, hyung."

That's what breaks Minhyuk's heart. This sting of reality, like a slap in the face.

A weight is on his chest, pressing until Minhyuk can barely breathe. "I never meant to make you feel like you were on your own."

"I know."

"If I knew how you felt I wouldn't have ―" Minhyuk chokes and buries his face in his hands, surprised there are already tears there. "This is all my fault, Jooheon-ah."

"No, it isn't." Jooheon slips a hand on his shoulder, and Minhyuk almost feels it in every inch of a body. "There are a lot of things we both could have done differently. You can't entirely blame yourself."

"I just hate that I lost you," he cries. And he feels so pathetic all over again, but if he doesn't say it now then he'll never let himself say it, then he may never have the chance to even get it past his lips. Some part of him wants Jooheon to know how much he's been hurting, how much he really means to him. "I needed you, Jooheon-ah, and I know it's my fault you weren't there because I know I shouldn't have pushed you away and I know I should have came to you, like you told me I could, but I still needed you to be there for me. I _need_ you."

"I know," Jooheon sniffs. There's a furrow in his brows he fights back and forth to soften. "I failed you. I'm really sorry, hyung."

Hesitantly, Jooheon presses their foreheads together, this hand on Minhyuk's arm that gives him all the comfort he needs as he lets himself cry again. It feels so strange to cry out in the silence, yet cathartic, in a way. There's still this numbing pain in his stomach that pangs with each shaky, deep breath Minhyuk sucks in between his sobs.

Everything about this just makes him feel so hopeless. Everything about his life. _Everything._ Everything always just feels fucking useless.

"I'm sorry I failed you, too," Minhyuk whispers. "I lied. Nothing is okay. I don't know if we're going to get out of here."

Jooheon nods, slowly. Minhyuk thinks he already accepted it hours ago. 

Another shaky sob escapes his mouth. "I'm so sorry, Jooheonie. I'm supposed to be your hyung, but I always just let you down."

"You've never let me down."

"Well, I've let myself down," he mutters.

Jooheon wipes away his tears. His fingers leave a tingle on Minhyuk's numb skin, the pads of his thumbs wiping away each drop until there's only sniffles left in the older boy.

"Stop crying, and we can figure a way out of here, okay? Like you said. We can figure it out together. We're going to figure it out."

He gazes at the way Jooheon's eyes bore into him, and he thinks of this gap of time that separates them, how every little thing in Jooheon's life without him in five months has shaped him and changed him and evolved him into this person Minhyuk hasn't had the chance to meet.

Yet, this gap―the mornings they've woken up without each other, the walks they've taken alone, the people they've met and seen who only they know about―somehow Jooheon is still as familiar as if Minhyuk fell asleep beside him last night.

So easily he could trust Jooheon with anything. So easily he could just let Jooheon care for him.

"Okay," Minhyuk sniffs. The tears are already there in his eyes again, and Minhyuk doesn't know if it's because he's tired or sad or if he's just so happy that despite how shit everything is he's here with Jooheon.

"Stop crying!" Jooheon repeats, scolding him with this playful smile on his lips that warms Minhyuk's heart again.

Laughing, he throws his head back to stop them and knocks his head into the headrest.

"You okay?"

There's a second Jooheon actually seems concerned for him. Gaping, hand instinctively resting over where Minhyuk collided with it, and then they laugh. This soft chuckle that actually feels good to exhale.

"Wait," Jooheon pauses, suddenly. He carefully sits up, and then climbs to the other side of the car again, skillful and precise, like he's already familiar with how to make it up there.

"What are you doing?"

"The headrest," he explains. Jooheon squints at the passenger's seat, and then scrambles with one hand to find his phone in his parka. "I can't remember, but I think I saw a meme about being able to break car windows with headrests a few years ago."

"Are you sure?"

"We can try."

He finds his phone in the breast pocket and whips it out, shining the flashlight on the seat where a button is. "How convenient," he smiles.

It's the most hopeful Minhyuk has heard his voice in hours. He watches, silently, as he pushes his finger into the button and easily slips the headrests off.

Minhyuk's heart has already slowed in his chest. There's no way this is the answer to their problems. Just like the seat belt, it's too easy. There's no way it could work. 

"Are you just going to hit it?"

In response, Jooheon stabs the sharp ends into the window. Nothing happens. He furrows his brows at it and turns into a different position, wedging his weight up between the passenger and back seat. It takes a while before he can find a position that won't have him slipping and tumbling down to the other side of the car again. 

Jooheon exhales, out of breath, and readies the headrest.

"Be careful," Minhyuk warns.

He strikes at the window again, and it's just that sound of shattering glass that has Minhyuk wincing, eyes involuntarily squeezing closed in a reflex to protect himself.

A silence falls between them. It feels like he's in a dream, only imagining this could actually be happening, merely hoping he could actually feel the cool breeze that rushes through the window, brushes at his frostbitten skin.

Minhyuk flutters his eyes open. Jooheon stares through the shattered window with a hanging jaw, so far in astonishment he uses his bare hand to knock the hanging glass shards out the way.

"What's out there?" Minhyuk queries. His eyes are brimming with tears again, but he already decided he can't cry anymore. Not for now anyway.

"I can't really see past the sky," Jooheon replies, stunned. His eyes are wide when he turns to look at him and drops the headrest from his hands. "Holy shit. Okay. I'm going to climb out?"

The car dips when Jooheon pushes his weight on the window. They sway, and then it falls on its side again, leaving everything still.

Minhyuk's palms break into a cold sweat. "Be careful," he warns again.

But Jooheon is barely listening anymore. He hauls his body through the opening again, and just like that the car gives in.

There's still this vague memory of the world spinning before Minhyuk woke up here, trapped, and it's like he has teleported into that foggy flashback. Everything spins, dips, and Minhyuk rips out a scream as Jooheon disappears through the window and all he's known and looked at in these last six hours is ripped away in milliseconds.

And then it stops. 

He isn't sitting on his side anymore, and it's strange seeing the world upright again, seeing more than a moon. There's no longer just the sky from where Jooheon fell through. He looks to the other side, with its battered door and missing window, and he can see the world there too.

But ―

Minhyuk's hands dig into his jeans, clawing.

The car is bobbing.

And suddenly Minhyuk hates he's upright again. He hates he can see the world. He hates when he looks through the window he doesn't see the night sky, or the moon, or even the snow left on the ground as he slipped into the taxi. Just water. Everywhere, in all directions, surrounding the taxi ― water.

Jooheon appears through the window again, soaked and shivering, though he throws off his parka like it's forty degrees. "Hyung," he calls, breathless.

"Jooheon-ah," Minhyuk whimpers, "I don't know how to swim."

"That's okay. I'll get you out of your seat belt."

Minhyuk almost forgot he had it on. He looks down at it, and then his heart is skipping a beat again. Panic builds inside of him, grasping his lungs until each exhale and inhale is just a gasp. "The branch," is all he's able to wheeze out.

There's no branch. Just a darker stain on his sweater, a widening stain on his sweater. It spreads before he can entirely wrap his head around it, spilling through the knitted fabric and staining his jeans. 

He holds his hand against it, but they're so shaky it seems to do nothing. Red already paints his hands, and Minhyuk feels light-headed just from the sight of it. Just from knowing that it's his, that it's coming from him.

Jooheon comes slipping through the seat. Instantly, his hands are pressing down on Minhyuk's too, because they think that's what you're supposed to do in these situations. This is what happens on TV, right?

Minhyuk can't breathe. He can only think. He can only think that he's losing so much blood so quickly, pouring from him like floodwaters, and there's no way they're getting to anyone who can help them soon, no way to find out what body of water they even ended up in.

"Don't panic," Jooheon tells him, though his voice wavers. He unbuttons his sweater, a few loose buttons popping off as he yanks it undone and off his body to press on Minhyuk's wound. "Hold this right here. I'll get you out of your seat belt."

Minhyuk is crying. That's all he can think of to do. Shakily, his hands grasp the sweater, pressing it as tightly as he can to slow the blood. 

Jooheon tries with his seat belt. He's too anxious, too fidgety as he pulls at the fabric the same way Minhyuk had before. It's as tight as it can be over Minhyuk's torso before he gives it a hard yank. Still, it doesn't budge. "Fuck."

He starts all over again, loosens the seat belt as much as he can, and then tightens it, tightening and yanking it again when it doesn't work. "Work, damn it," he desperately murmurs under his breath.

Minhyuk watches as he yanks on it once more, then over and over again, murmuring swear words, his hands becoming more unsteady and his breaths more tight each time he has to start over.

"I can't take it off, hyung." Jooheon yanks it again, vehemently, like he's angry with it. "It won't come off. It's not working. Why won't it come off?"

"It's jammed."

"What do I do?" He's back to pulling the fabric again, so disordered it feels like every tug is only wasted effort.

"Jooheon, just stop."

He doesn't even pause. Just keeps jerking at it angrily, more panicked, over and over and over again.

 _"'Stop,"_ Minhyuk pleads.

Jooheon breaks away from it. The only color left in his hands are the cuts from the glass shards in the window. He's breathing heavily, panicking like how Minhyuk had first woken up to him stuck on the other side of the car, and Minhyuk wants to panic too. He wants to cry with him and scream at how the world always seems to fuck him over.

But still, in a strange way, he thinks he feels a tinge of happiness. Just having the chance to see Jooheon again, to hear his voice and see how there's so little of him that did change—just how he wished. Even if neither of them are okay, even if there's nothing that seems to ever be able to go right and there's still so many things between them that may never have the chance to be fixed, he thinks somehow he fulfilled his one wish. He thinks some things mended in their own way just sitting here in this car. And he's okay with that.

He pulls Jooheon in to rest on his shoulder. Quivering, he lies his head there and holds him, squeezes him as tightly as Minhyuk has craved for months. 

His hand strokes his head, lips leaving a soft peck there. "Just go," Minhyuk tells him.

"No."

"It's helpless."

That's what they're both thinking. It's why Jooheon can't breathe; it's why he doesn't budge even a slightly when Minhyuk tries to pull away.

"I'm not leaving you," Jooheon says. It's the most austere he's ever heard him.

"You have to." But his words just have Jooheon obstinately tightening his grip on him, burying his face in the crook of Minhyuk's neck. "This isn't the time to be stubborn, Jooheon-ah. Your little brother needs you, and all your friends. Every single one of them need you."

"And then what?" Jooheon picks his head up to look at him. His eyes are wet, but he furrows his eyebrows angrily, like there's no way he'll even happen to change his mind. "You're hurt. I'm not leaving you here."

"There's not a lot to do."

"Then we'll figure it out together." His voice cracks. Jooheon sighs and drops his head, resting it on Minhyuk's shoulder again. "I don't want to leave again. Give me a chance to take care of you."

"You took care of me well."

"No," Jooheon exhales, "we're not talking in past tense. We're not giving up. You said I can't give up, so I'm not letting you give up either. I'll figure out something if you just —"

Minhyuk drops a gentle hand back on his head, petting his hair. He feels so drained, so tired. He just wants this all to be over already, and he wants Jooheon to be okay. He deserves it. He deserves to run off to his family again, to all the people who love him and care about him.

"I'll be okay, Jooheon."

"No, you won't," he cries into his chest.

Jooheon lifts his head, and just the look he gives him, tears spilling from his eyes and this crinkle in his brows Minhyuk wishes he could smooth out with the pad of his thumb, has his heart breaking.

"I'm sorry," Jooheon chokes out. "If I could go back, there are so many things I would've done differently. I'm sorry, hyung. I'm so sorry."

It takes everything for him to swallow around the lump in his throat. This is what he wanted from Jooheon. The apology, this look of sincerity, some indication that Jooheon still loves him in the same way he did before, but he can't take it, and he thinks in this moment he can't really blame Jooheon for leaving. 

"Don't be sorry," Minhyuk pleads. Sometimes it's okay to consider your own feelings, to do what's best for yourself instead of someone else. And Minhyuk would have only hurt him in the end. He knows that now.

He gently bumps their foreheads, resting it there like before. Just to slow everything down, to listen to the way Jooheon breathes and the cold wind that nips at the numbness. 

Panic is still there in his chest, closing in on him. He feels so faint, and God how that scares him. But there's no room for him to be afraid. It's time to put the brave face on again. Be the one who's strong.

"I love you, you know?" he tells him.

Jooheon whimpers, but he nods against his head. Another tear drips from his eyes, slips down his nose with a short exhale pushed from his lips. "I love you, too, hyung. More than you'll ever know."

"I'll be okay," Minhyuk says again. His words are beginning to slur, but he tries to ignore it, slowly grips his empty hand at the nape of Jooheon's neck. "And you'll be okay."

Jooheon silently nods again.

"You mean the world to me. The happiest moments in my life are with you. Don't forget that."

"I won't," Jooheon promises. He brushes their noses, and Minhyuk doesn't care how he smears tears on his skin, only flutters his eyes closed when Jooheon tilts his head and lets his lips slip over his.

Minhyuk hates knowing the last time Jooheon kissed him was to say goodbye. And here they are again, falling into the same routine. Kissing each other goodbye. Jooheon leaving. A tiring habit.

Maybe things were supposed to be this way. Maybe there was always meant to be a few inches between them, a few inches that kept them apart.

He hates where things seem to always end for them, but he sinks in Jooheon's taste like it's warmth and tries to remember it to wake up all the numbness in his body. 

Minhyuk waits until Jooheon leaves, and then he breaks down. Face buried in the sleeves of his stupid fucking sweater. 

How shitty life is. How cruel it is. The one person who his heart beats for and there's never a way he can really have him. Somehow there's always something that will fuck up.

Still, he holds the sweaters at his torso. Even if everything seems so pointless sitting here, listening as the morning comes in with soft light and a soft sky and he's still here stuck and bleeding out, water sloshing by the opened window.

He drops his head back on the headrest. Keeping his head up only exhausts him more. He's so tired. So weak. Every bit of energy draining from his body with the blood soaking the sweaters balled tightly in his palms.

A sigh slips his lips in a weak cry. But his face quickly softens. He's too exhausted to cry. He's barely energized enough to think. It hurts. Or maybe it doesn't. Minhyuk wonders if at this point he can really even feel pain anymore.

But he thinks of Jooheon and a smile tugs at his lips. Because Jooheon cares about him almost as much as he does. Because Jooheon loves him almost as much as he does. Because, throughout all this time, Minhyuk was never as alone as he thought he was. 

His eyes flutter closed.

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

Things fell like this: one domino after the other.

Minhyuk didn't get the job to a different elementary school. He worked double-shift his fourth time that week. The manager chewed him out for dropping hot oil all over the floor, and then chewed him out to oblivion when he saw the tears in Minhyuk's eyes. Minhyuk stayed an hour past his shift—which had been happening over and over again, a continuous cycle that easily just became an expected bit of his routine—crouched and cleaning hot oil, wiping his tears on the inner elbow of his sleeve.

During breaks he smoked with his co-workers more often. Jooheon said he wouldn't kiss him if he kept smoking. So, their kisses became shorter, more sporadic, and Jooheon always subtly scowled at the whiff of cigarettes caught on his uniform.

Minhyuk always locked himself in the laundry room after work anyway. It was simpler being alone. Jooheon was so happy with job and so happy with his life, there was no reason for Minhyuk to sulk around him with this dejected side of himself. The last thing he wanted was Jooheon worrying about him. The weight of Minhyuk's failure would just bring him down, then he would look at him the same way he did in the bus and Minhyuk would feel suffocated again. 

Jooheon still tried, though. He came to him one week, smiling hopefully as Minhyuk was spread out on the bed like he usually was whenever the laundry room became boring.

"The guys want us to hang out with them this weekend," Jooheon told him, plopping onto the bed.

Minhyuk briefly glanced at him peeling off his socks and gazed back at his phone game. "Doing what?"

"I don't know. Just hanging out," Jooheon shrugged. He slipped under the blankets and tucked his hands under his head, smiling over at him sleepily. "It was Hoseok's idea, but he's forcing it into being Hyungwon's idea, so we'd be at his place."

Minhyuk slowly nodded.

"There'll be food too," he sang, teasingly, which already was a given whenever they hung out with their friends. It wasn't a hang-out if they weren't partaking in some form of gluttony. "Hyungwon bought beef, so we're probably going to make Kihyun cook for us."

The thought was nice. They had all been too distracted with adulting to properly hang out with each other, or at least as often as usual. Once upon a time Minhyuk took it upon himself to always stick around Hoseok and Kihyun's house, heating the left-overs in their fridge and slipping his clothes into the laundry like he lived there, but since he moved in with Jooheon the ride to his friends' house was too long to visit often. Hyungwon, too, was too far for routine visits, seeing as he lived in the middle of fucking nowhere.

But Minhyuk wasn't sure if he would be in the mood for hanging around them.

There was nothing to catch up on. And if they asked how he was doing, he'd have to tell lies. One after the other. He'd have to smile and say everything is fine, that he's happy, and pretend the distance between him and Jooheon wasn't palpable, or even in existence at all.

Jooheon just stared at him, waiting for a response.

"Sounds fun," Minhyuk offered.

"I'm going to go, and I would be really happy if you came too," Jooheon said, cutting to the chase. He blinked over at him, batting his eyelashes with hope. "Hanging at Hyungwon's place could be a good change of scenery."

"In the woods? I don't know."

Jooheon pouted playfully. "Oh, come on, Hyungwon has the most comfortable futon in the world."

That was true. Hyungwon did undeniably have the best living room ever.

"But I'm pretty sure Hyungwon hates me."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Yeah, right," Minhyuk snorted. He clicked the screen of his phone to black, dropping it to rest on his stomach. "Every time I come around him he gets tense."

"Because the last time you saw him you sneezed in his sleeve, hyung."

A smile cocked at his lips. "But it was funny."

"It was," Jooheon laughed. He paused, watching Minhyuk's face silently until he finally looked over at him. "So...?"

"I don't know. I'm usually tired after work ―"

Jooheon sulked. A sulk that had already threw the towel in. Guilt flooded in with this annoying twist in Minhyuk's stomach as Jooheon rolled onto his back again. The guilt knew it had to console Jooheon. He knew the frown on his face barely had anything to do with him being upset Minhyuk didn't want to spend his weekend out in the woods with Hyungwon and had everything to do with the one thing they wouldn't talk about. The fact he was trying and Minhyuk wasn't.

"I'm sorry," Minhyuk sighed, because that was all he could think of to say. But, just like everything else in his life, the words were pointless.

Jooheon gave him this stiff nod.

Minhyuk hated whenever Jooheon was mad at him. He'd been mad at him a lot lately.

And it wasn't the mad that was bearable. Or, at least,  _expected_. It wasn't the shouting and narrowed eyes and nights on the couch anger Minhyuk felt he deserved. It was this quiet anger that scared him. Something that still let Minhyuk cuddle into his side at night and sleepily puckered his lips when Minhyuk shook him awake for a kiss before he left in the mornings. It was something indistinct, far too abstruse for Minhyuk to make sense of. He just knew something was wrong. He knew that something was because of him. He knew they never talked about it.

"I'm sorry," Minhyuk said again. His pathetic apology for the everything else. He snuggled into Jooheon's side, embracing his arm and pressing a kiss into his cheek like that could possibly make anything better. "I love you."

"I know," Jooheon quietly replied. It didn't even get a smile out of him. "I love you, too, hyung."

"Soon I won't upset you anymore," Minhyuk promised. He squeezed him in tightly and breathed in the smell of his aftershave and the scent of disinfectant spray that always lingered on his clothes when he came back from the hospital. "You'll be happier soon, okay? Both of us."

Jooheon slowly nodded.

 

 

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

It was the same routine the whole week ― dragging himself out of bed when it was still dark, kissing Jooheon goodbye, frying chicken until night. Minhyuk knew Jooheon was right. Going out, breaking away from the same draining scene every day, could do him some good. The both of them. And even if Minhyuk hated the long train ride to Hyungwon's house and lack of good WiFi and service, he always liked watching the world pass from the window, how the city blurred into this tranquility of the countryside.

But he knew they were better off not having him around. It took too much energy not to be a downer. Minhyuk had other plans anyway.

Jooheon was headstrong on getting him to come. All week it had been something he subtly brought up, pushing it as softly as he could. Even on the day of he came back from work, he still tried to talk him into coming.

"The guys really want to see you," he said. Already he had thrown on a large sweatshirt and sweatpants, looking over at Minhyuk with these pleading eyes as he tugged at his shirt. "We can play games and eat together. It'll be really fun."

Minhyuk stuffed a vanilla cookie in his mouth. "I already have food."

" _Real_ food."

"I'm tired," Minhyuk lied. But maybe it wasn't really a lie. He _was_ tired. He was tired all the time. He couldn't even remember the last time he felt anything besides tired.

"Sleeping in Hyungwon's bed is an option," Jooheon suggested.

Minhyuk wasn't sure why he wouldn't just drop it. There was always other times to hang out with their friends. Maybe not anytime soon, but it wasn't like Minhyuk had the time to hang out with them anytime soon. 

"I don't want to go, Jooheon-ah," Minhyuk groaned. "I want to lay in bed and eat my family-sized pack of cookies and enjoy my hours actually being able to sit, okay?"

There was a second Jooheon's shoulders dropped, but he brushed it off, nodding slowly. "Okay."

"Tell the guys I said hey," Minhyuk added in with a chime thrown in so it'd evaporate some of the tension in the air. It didn't do much. Jooheon seemed angry again―well, disappointed―fleetingly scrolling through his phone before shoving it into the belly pocket of his sweatshirt. "See you later?"

"See you."

He'd already adopted the blank stare Minhyuk was becoming used to. Still, Jooheon pecked his head and plucked one of the cookies from his box.

"Have fun," Minhyuk waved off, weakly.

It made sense to feel sad, or scared at least. Minhyuk didn't feel either.

After the door closed behind Jooheon, he nonchalantly finished off the boxes of cookies like nothing was wrong, and then fetched a bag of Cheetos in the cabinet to take with him to his chair. That was all he wanted to do, play a few battle rounds and eat. 

Two hours passed until Minhyuk could come into first place. If only his mind could stay on one thing at one time it wouldn't have even taken an hour. But, either way, he smiled softly at his victory and flicked the TV off. Everything felt so normal. Too normal.

Minhyuk headed to the washroom and let the bathtub run, drizzling flower bath gel in the rising water. It always felt like soaking in a field of jasmines and Minhyuk liked that thought, besides also just wanting his hair to smell nice. The gel wasn't technically interchangeable, at least according to Jooheon, but Minhyuk used it as a shampoo anyway. And it wasn't like Jooheon didn't like it, despite what he said. Even if the sniffs of his fringe were supposed to be subtle, they never were.

In the nightstand drawer, he pulled out the letter papers stuck between pages of a novel he'd never bothered reading. There was only three, each line marked neatly with his handwriting. Minhyuk made the bed, and then placed them there. It didn't look right. He picked them up and decided it would look better on the desk in their room, pushing aside the books and loose leaves of paper scattered around.

The tub was already full when he returned to the washroom. Minhyuk turned off the water and walked to the mirror, ignoring his sunken reflection as he pulled it open. They didn't buy a lot of medicine, mostly because there hadn't come a time where they needed to. But there was still painkillers from the bottles Minhyuk bought after his first few weeks working at the elementary school, and Jooheon had iron pills in the cabinet from a failed vegetarian attempt he stopped needing to take months ago.

Minhyuk shook the bottle, testing its weight, and then decided it'd do before scooping the painkillers and some unopened cold/flu tablets up with it.

Was it bad everything felt so normal?

Minhyuk plopped on the edge of the bathtub and dropped the bottles and packets there. Maybe he would have felt more scared if he hadn't thought about this for so long. There was a lot of room to slip into his mind while frying chicken. Spacing out was the only way to feel any sort of comfort swallowed in heat and humidity.

At least now he wouldn't have to worry about that. He wouldn't know what heat and humidity was, or how his heart sank that day he saw disappointment in his mom's teary eyes, or that subtle anger tinged with every look Jooheon gave him, every touch he left on his skin. All of it would suddenly fade away like a dream.

The fabric of his tee shirt and boxers awkwardly clung to his skin as he submerged in the suds. There was a second Minhyuk stalled. The feel of warm water and the soft smell of _fiori_ and whatever other ingredient laced inside, he already felt calm, like the world had taken a pause. Just for him.

It didn't feel much like he was leaving anyone behind. But, still, the thought ― all the moments of time to think, time to let his mind wander ― left a bad taste in his mouth. Until it became _this_. Until it felt like Minhyuk would just do everyone in his life who even remotely cared about him a favor.

He uncapped the painkillers and poured a few in his palm. They were so tiny. Merely little circles in his hand. Yet too many swallows could just shut his body down. It felt too easy.

Minhyuk threw his head back and swallowed down two. He turned on the faucet by his head and sipped from it, turned it back off again and repeated. 

He _was_ doing everyone in his life a favor. The thought of him even leaving a dent behind wasn't merely imaginable. It had been a while since his friends bothered reaching out to him. Probably because Minhyuk became lazy with typing replies.

He poured more pills in his hand, letting the tiny red circles fill his palm before he threw his head back again. 

It was a favor to his mom, who had always pushed so hard in supporting him and making sure he was happy with nothing to show for it. There weren't any stories his mother could tell her friends on the telephone with a smug smile on her face. Nothing to brag about. Nothing to be proud of besides her eldest son only using his bachelor's degree to work sixteen-hours at a chicken restaurant. How fucking humiliating.

And Jooheon. Jooheon. Minhyuk was so upset with himself for ruining something so good. This connection he never thought he could have with another person. With all the love in his heart plumping with his blood, it felt impractical only giving all of it to one person. But Jooheon, he was different, and Minhyuk was captivated by the way he just taken his heart and it didn't even hurt to hand it over to him.

Minhyuk wanted to love Jooheon with all he could, with every fiber in his body. Except he had become so drained and detached his love couldn't pour into him the way he wanted it to. Then Jooheon began to not understand him. The one person who could understand his most incoherent words couldn't read him anymore.

Then he drifted further away, and what hurt Minhyuk the most was that he didn't know if he could even reach him anymore.

But he knew Jooheon was angry because he wasn't trying to reach, and Minhyuk was angry with himself for it, too. He loved Jooheon. He was in love with Jooheon. 

That one person filled all the capacity in his heart, became this soft smile and comforting limbs Minhyuk remembered by heart, woke up into every day feeling like he was floating, yet Minhyuk couldn't just _try._

In the end everything always boiled down to being his fault. Over and over again.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed in the bathtub. Minhyuk remembers feeling happy. An unfitting wave that hit as the soap suds consumed him in their fluffiness and jasmine scent. Minhyuk breathed slow, sank until he was just a peek of face in a bubble bath, because he could barely keep his head up anymore.

Minutes could have passed. Hours, even. Minhyuk didn't how these things worked. 

But he was alone, that's what he did know, until he wasn't. 

The world was the blur life of a low resolution, but Minhyuk always knew Jooheon. He could map him out from anything, from anywhere.

His mouth was moving. Each word spoken from a bad signal. Minhyuk couldn't discern any of them, only hearing the faint rhythm of his voice like a song playing in the distance.

His eyes couldn't focus. A slap stung his cheek, then again, desperate. But his eyes wanted to close. Minhyuk didn't fight against it. It felt like a task, and he was too sleepy for tasks. All he wanted was to close his eyes and chase the darkness behind his eyelids.

 

 

 

 

. . . 

 

 

 

 

"I don't know what to do."

A breathy sigh crossed Jooheon's lips. Voice slow and quiet, a hand dragging over his face like it could wipe away all the tiredness from his eyes.

Only now he wasn't crying. Minhyuk had a feeling it'd start soon, like the tears that had been spilling down his face for the last few days. He was hurt. It was discernible even in the way his shoulders slumped over as he sat on the couch, with these circles that formed under his eyes that used to only be from the occasional long nights spent at the hospital. Even in the way he spoke so loosely and depleted, an inkling of his hurt enveloped in every little motion in his body.

This was his fault. Again, he hurt Jooheon.

Silently, Minhyuk buried his face in his knees. The only response he could muster. A hand slid over his back, as gentle as ever, smoothing up and massaging the nape of his neck.

"I miss you, hyung."

There was a tremble in his voice that Minhyuk had become too used to hearing. He tightly squeezed his arms around his legs, like it could make everything disappear. All of the pain in Jooheon's eyes, all of his hurt and disappointment. Minhyuk wished he could have just disappeared. But even that plan he failed.

"Last year everything was so different," Jooheon told him, sniffing. His hand stroked down his back again in this soft, warm brush. "We were so excited to be together, and we were happy. You were happy. Then things changed out of nowhere. How did that happen?"

Minhyuk didn't answer.

"You kept pushing me away," he continued. "I knew something was wrong. I just didn't know it was like this."

His voice cracked, and then he was crying again, heavy breaths and wet tears smudged on Minhyuk's shoulder.

"I didn't know you would ever do this. I could have been there."

Beside him Jooheon was still quivering on his shoulder, out of breath. Minhyuk finally lifted his head and petted his hair, lacing his fingers in the orange strands and brushing his fingers over his forehead.

"Don't cry," Minhyuk uttered, trying to smooth out the crinkle in Jooheon's brows with the pad of his thumb. "If you cry, then I'll cry."

"Just cry, hyung. You haven't even cried since you woke up in the hospital. Don't you feel anything?"

"I don't know."

Minhyuk hated that that had to be his answer. But he wasn't sure if he really felt anything. Except, he knew he was disappointed and sad and angry, yet they just felt like adjectives when they couldn't even pour out of him in the way they could have easily done so months before. A year before, when everything was so different.

"You really could have died," Jooheon said, whispering around the last word like it was foreign in his vocabulary. A tear fell down his wet cheeks. "If the train to Hyungwon's didn't break down, you would be dead."

The speech had already been given to him. A nurse told him he was lucky, smiling like this was something so great, something to be happy over. Maybe it made Minhyuk a bad person for feeling angry when he drifted from his darkness into a world of white and bright lights and suddenly crushed in his mother's arms as she cried into his hair and the nurse told him where he was, why he was there. This feeling of everything crashing around him.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you," Minhyuk told him. He wiped away the tears that escaped his eyes, desperate. "I'm just tired. All I do is disappoint you."

"Disappoint me?" Jooheon choked out. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion, but Minhyuk still gently brushed his thumb over them. "When have you ever disappointed me?"

"Ever since I quit the elementary school, things changed, Jooheon-ah. You saw me differently. You still look at me differently."

Jooheon picked up his head to look at him. "What?" Nothing changed. Every day I've been so proud of you. You found a job so quickly and you worked so hard without ever complaining ― why would I be disappointed in you?"

"It's just ― this isn't what I wanted."

Jooheon stared at him, lashes thickened with tears. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I didn't want you to know."

"We're a team, hyung. We can't work if we're not a team."

Minhyuk looked down. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to let any emotion spill. All the anger and sadness felt too distant to reach. He petted Jooheon's hair lazily, resting his head on his when he laid on his shoulder again.

"When you woke up, were you angry that you were alive?"

Slowly, he nodded, because he was tired of lying to Jooheon. He thought Jooheon deserved the truth, at least. That was one thing he owed to him after all this.

Jooheon sucked in this tight, shaky breath like it had knocked all the air out of him. 

It was a day later that Minhyuk was gently shaken awake by a hand. When he opened his eyes Jooheon was leaning over him with a beanie tugged over his fringe, faintly illuminated by a small lamp in the corner.

"Hyung," Jooheon called, "get up. Your mom is going to be here soon."

"Huh? What?" Minhyuk sat up too quickly, and then sighed. Still, his head was fogged, eyes clouded with sleep he rubbed at with two fists. "Why is she ― are you going somewhere?"

There was a backpack strapped over his shoulders, that's what Minhyuk noticed after a few blinks, and then his outfit. Jeans, a tee shirt, arms plugging into a thin jacket. This wasn't just Jooheon's casual sleeping attire.

"Where are you going?" Minhyuk rasped.

Jooheon plopped on the edge of the bed with this look in eyes Minhyuk wasn't sure if he was just too sleepy to discern. "I'm going to Hyungwon's."

"What? In the middle of the night? You didn't say anything about going to see him before."

"Because I had to think," Jooheon told him. "I can't do this, hyung."

"Can't do what?" Minhyuk repeated. And then things came together, the sleepiness wearing off with each piece that fell into its place. He glanced behind him where two suitcases were already at their bedroom door. "You're leaving."

"I'm sorry."

It hit him like a wave―this rush of pain, this pang at his heart―and Minhyuk wasn't sure if it was because of sadness or anger. 

Tears stung in his eyes. "You're just going to leave me all on my own?"

"I know," Jooheon muttered. He dropped a hand on Minhyuk's leg through the blanket, stroking him there. "But your mom said she'll be here soon, and I'll still pay for the apartment every month ―"

"Is that supposed to comfort me?" Minhyuk could feel his emotions bubbling inside of him, yet he couldn't place what they were. How he felt and what to do with them. "I don't care about that. I need you, Jooheon-ah."

"What can I do, hyung? I swear I want to take everything that hurts you and throw it away and make you happy, but it doesn't work like that. I can't ― if you need me to make you better, then I can't. I'm sorry."

Minhyuk hated he could see the remorse in his eyes. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to curl his fists and scream.

"You're supposed to be my boyfriend," he choked out. "You say we're supposed to be a team, but now that things aren't as easy as you wanted them to be you're just going to ditch."

"I tried to be there for you," Jooheon shot back, apoplectic with furrowing brows and this frown at his lips that Minhyuk had never seen on him before. And he realized it wasn't sadness or anger he felt filling his lungs. It was fear. Jooheon had been angry for so long, but it was silent, controlled, nothing like the way he rose his voice at him now, and Minhyuk was terrified. "I can't take this. Do you have any idea how it feels to find your boyfriend nearly dead in a bathtub? That image is burned into my mind, hyung."

Minhyuk frowned. He couldn't argue against it. He knew he couldn't.

He was too tired anyway.

He looked away in silence, fingers absently running through his own tousled strands of his hair.

"This is too much, Min." Jooheon's voice was soft again, and Minhyuk could already see the glistening of tears in his eyes. But he didn't deserve to be sad. He was the one who was leaving. "I just can't do this anymore."

The doorbell rang. Minhyuk's heart sped up, realizing what it was. Realizing that once his mother stepped through the door then Jooheon would just walk away and be out of his life.

"I don't want you to go," Minhyuk whimpered. The first tear he had shed in a while broke from his waterline. It'd almost felt awkward, unfamiliar. 

Jooheon kissed his cheek. His lips lingered there for a while, before he wrapped Minhyuk in his arms and let him curl into a ball in his chest. The doorbell rang again, but neither of the boys flinched. Minhyuk buried his face in Jooheon's shirt, squeezed him tight, squeezed him even tighter. "I love you, you know?"

It didn't feel like Jooheon loved him. He nodded anyway, like he believed it, wishing he could believe it, as his tears soaked into the cotton of his tee shirt. "I love you, too."

 

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

 

Peeling his eyes open is always the first hard step.

Or moving. Moving is never easy.

One finger moves, barely a twitch, and Minhyuk feels pain seep through every inch of his body. 

Someone is talking. He makes out _'hang in there'_ and _'you'll be okay,'_ like the cheesy depression pamphlets his Mom bought him. Minhyuk can feel himself moving. He wonders why, but his eyelids are too heavy to fight against.

Is he dead? He can't be dead, can he? Minhyuk wants to open his eyes. 

He thinks of the car. Thinks of the blood stained on his hands and painted on his sweatshirt. 

His eyes finally open. The sky is there. A blur of dark blue tinged with pink and orange that rolls over him. Water isn't around him. He isn't in the car.

Minhyuk blinks. He's on a bed ― a stretcher. The paramedic tells him to hang in there again. It all feels like deja vu, a replay of five months ago. 

Except this time Minhyuk is trying to hang in there. He's so sleepy, but he fights against it, squinting against the throb in his head that's no better than the throb all over his body. He isn't going to let himself slip away.

The paramedic rolls him into the ambulance. But it isn't just the two of them.

A smile tugs on Minhyuk's lips, the shakiest and weakest smile he can happen to offer. It almost hurts to curl them, but it's a smile nevertheless. "You came back for me," he rasps.

The dimples in Jooheon's cheeks deepen. He reaches over, takes Minhyuk's limp hand in his.

"Of course I did."

Minhyuk thinks he'll cry. Jooheon's head is bandaged, other hand wrapped thickly in gauze and peeking out stiffly from an arm sling, yet all of this still feels surreal, like it still isn't happening to him, to them.

But Jooheon's hand warms his cold palm, and his small smile does even better at it. Minhyuk wouldn't know what to do if this wasn't real.

"I told you we'd figure it out," Jooheon tells him. "Together."

Minhyuk hums. His thumb strokes over Jooheon's knuckles. "We're a team," he adds.

He doesn't know what he did to deserve Jooheon. If he pushes him away, Jooheon stays by his side. If he leaves, Jooheon comes back. There doesn't seem to be a way for them to not find each other again. 

"You good?" Jooheon asks.

Beyond the wound on his belly―he knows that's what he's asking―but even then, maybe it'd be the same answer.

He doesn't need a second to think, to wonder if there should be a lie that falls from his tongue. 

"I'm good," he whispers, this lazy smile on his lips. And it's true. Even if everything feels like a jumbled mess, even if he feels so lightweight, so light-headed, Jooheon looks at him with this soft fondness and he knows it's okay.

The nurse was right. He is lucky. He's lucky because he has Jooheon. He's lucky because they are a team. Just the two of them, and eventually they figure things out. He's lucky because they'll find themselves in the same place again, together.

The ambulance speeds off with Jooheon's hand still held in his own. Minhyuk lightly squeezes it. _I love you,_ he hopes his cold palm says. And Jooheon smiles down at him, cheeks pushed at his eyes like he completely understands, and squeezes back.


End file.
